


Dilemma

by AspenCloud



Category: Dreamwastaken, Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Emotional, Hugs, Hurt/Comfort, I broke my own heart and came here to break yours, Love Confessions, M/M, Sad Ending, everything is bad, minecraft but it's real life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-20
Updated: 2020-09-20
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:01:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26568457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AspenCloud/pseuds/AspenCloud
Summary: A strange voice appears in Dream's head one day. It seizes his mind and orders that, from now on, his main and only goal of existence is to hunt down and destroy George. A friend he's lived with for years, built a house with, a friend who might even become more than just a friend to him...
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 69
Collections: MCYT





	Dilemma

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Dilemma](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/687940) by me. 



> I wrote the original text in Russian and then translated it to English. So big thanks to Pep_Pizza who helped me in editing the translation!

At the edge of the forest and rolling fields that stretched beyond the horizon, the rays of the setting sun left the last long golden streaks on the wild grass. There was almost no wind, and no clouds. This silence, natural harmony, gave chills and forced those to want to stay in this moment forever - at the turn of day and night.

This thought flashed through the mind of the lone person who was sitting, almost motionless, on a fallen tree, and from a distance he might have been mistaken for a statue. But soon he gave a little sigh and raised his hand to his face to adjust his white mask with a painted smile. Then he drew his sword from the scabbard on his back and laid it on his lap, watching the rays of the setting sun glint brightly on the perfectly smooth diamond surface. He looked at the blade appraisingly to make sure it didn't need sharpening yet, then slowly returned it to its scabbard. He had to move.

His mind seemed to be in some kind of strange fog. He couldn't remember when this state had taken hold of him, when it had made him change his behavior abruptly. He remembered that his name was Dream. Remembered that he had (has?) a friend called George, and at some point he just woke up in their shared house in complete solitude with one thought firmly planted in his mind — he must hunt down and destroy George. Why? A voice in his head, coming from nowhere, told him that he just had to, and there was no need to ask any more questions. At first Dream resisted the idea, but soon all his memories seemed to be shrouded in some kind of veil, and pity and rejection were replaced by detachment and coolness. If voice says to kill, he'll do it. There was no one else by his side but the voice in his head from that day on.

" _Get up, sitting in one spot long enough..._ "

The voice spoke rarely. It could be quiet for hours and frighten a silent Dream with his abrupt appearance. It pounded on his eardrums from somewhere inside his head, forcing him to listen. Dream never answered. Still, talking to yourself is the first sign of insanity. He's not insane, is he? He just wants to reach the goal.

Dream got up from the log and took out the compass. On that first day, the voice told him that the compass would point to the target. Now the compass needle trembled slightly from side to side, and Dream wondered for a few seconds what his victim was doing. The needle pointed in the direction of the forest, so the man just shrugged and went in that direction.

The absence of wind helped to hear the slightest sounds around, and this just worked in Dream's favor. If he began to creep closer to the victim, he would be able to remain invisible for as long as possible and control the situation as well as possible. But so far the compass needle was not twitching very much, which indicated that George was not very close and there was no point in being secretive yet. As long as the sun still lit up the forest with streaks of orange light, Dream didn't have to worry about running into monsters.

The long walk with short breaks was making his body noticeably exhausted, so at the sight of bushes with large red berries, Dream decided that it would be a good idea to replenish his food supplies. He took a small piece of fabric from the pocket of his hoodie and leaned into the bushes, putting the compass in his other pocket. But as soon as he was distracted from his main goal, he heard rapidly approaching footsteps and the crunch of branches.

" _Damn!_ " Dream wasn't sure if it was the voice or his own thoughts. He immediately stopped gathering berries and straightened up, bringing his hand back to draw his sword at any moment.

"Dream?" A young man about his own age, wearing a blue t-shirt and white-rimmed dark glasses, ran into the clearing.

"George," Dream said emotionless, frozen with his hand raised like a statue.

"What are you waiting for?" The inner voice hissed irritably.

The mouse ran into the trap itself. It remains only to close the deadly vise. One half of Dream was glad of this sudden good fortune, and the other half didn't understand why George wasn't afraid of him. Isn't he a victim? Shouldn't he run away?

"Oh, how lucky," George's voice was choked with shortness of breath. It looks like he's been running for quite a while. "You can't imagine how lonely I've been all these days... I just woke up one day — in an open field, not a soul nearby! As if I hadn't gone to bed in my room earlier in the evening," he wiped the sweat from his forehead before continuing. "I've been looking for you all this time. This is a real miracle that we met!"

He took a few steps forward, crossing the clearing, and Dream lowered his hand, realizing that there was no point in drawing his sword. He still had the dagger case hanging from his belt as plan-B. A slight grin appeared on his face, but the mask completely isolated his emotions from George's eyes.

"I was walking through the woods and suddenly saw your white smiley mask from a mile away." He took another couple of steps toward Dream, and Dream stiffened all over, although outwardly he remained just as motionless. "And thank God it's you... I've missed you so much, I was afraid I wouldn't see you again."

Dream didn't have time to do anything when in a split second George closed the distance between them and wrapped him in a tight hug, literally hanging on to his neck. Because of the difference in height, George buried his nose in Dream's green hoodie, wrapping his arms tighter around him and pressing himself closer to him. It seemed that in those seconds he was venting all the anguish that had accumulated in him during the days of loneliness.

"Let's go home, Dream," he muttered, his face still on his friend's chest. "We'll pick some berries and bake a pie... And just sit next to the fireplace together, like normal people."

Dream, trying not to make too much noise, slowly opened the case and took out a dagger. He wrapped his left arm around George's back, pretending to return the hug, while his right hand with the dagger had raised behind his back. The point stopped just three centimeters from the victim's body.

" _One easy move and the goal will be achieved. Do it!_ " the voice said triumphantly, as if urging its captive on.

Dream could feel George taking deep breaths, sniffing the smell of his hoodie. Even through the clothes, Dream could feel his heartbeat. One move, indeed, and all this can be stopped. The netherite dagger can easily cut through the soft flesh and split a vital organ. So Dream moved his hand with the weapon slightly, trying it on so that he didn't have to make two stabs. At that moment George pulled his face slightly away from Dream's chest and started talking again:

"You know, I... I thought I'd never have the courage to say it, but now, after four days of constantly dreading the thought of never seeing you again, I know I have to say it now. " He looked directly at Dream's masked face, where his eyes should have been. "I think I fell in love with you..."

The hand with the dagger, which was already raised to strike, came to a standstill. The half of the Dream that was not controlled by the voice, that was weak, but continued to struggle and did its best to clear his mind, begged him to stop. It begged him to put the dagger away and finally tell George what he would have said if he hadn't been under the control of this incomprehensible voice — to say that he, too, was beginning to have strong feelings for his no-longer-friend. Tell him how he had wanted to tear down the partition between their rooms in the house and move the beds together for a long time already. How he wanted to be wrapped up with him in one blanket in the evenings, decrypt the texts of the enchanted books together, and hug George every time he leaned against his shoulder. And how Dream wanted to finally stop hiding his face behind that stupid mask and cover his lips with his own. That Dream was sure that this was his ideal life. And he wouldn't need anything else. But right now, he's only moments away from it either becoming a reality or shattering into a million pieces, falling to the cold ground in drops of blood. The point of the dagger and George's back are still separated by an inch of air.

The voice inside rebelled, noticing that it was losing control.

" _Why are you standing still?! You idiot! Just get it over with! Come on!_ " His fingers tightened on the hilt, so that his wrist started trembling involuntarily.

"Yes, I am... I'm definitely in love with you," George repeated more hesitantly, realizing that Dream hadn't made a single sound in all that time. He couldn't tell what was behind the silence. How did Dream feel now? Will he reciprocate or push George away? This caused an unpleasant cold sensation to arise as a pulling weight somewhere under the ribs. "Dream, you... You won't leave me, will you?"

"I don't..." Dream's voice came out as a rasp, and the short sentence sounded more like a hoarse exhalation. He inhaled noisily through his nose.

" _Kill him! Kill him! KILL HIM!!!_ " the voice repeated, making his head spin. He could feel the compass needle in his pocket tapping on the inside of its glass cover, as if trying to escape and complete the deal on its own.

Dream gritted his teeth as George lifted one hand and brushed a golden lock of hair from his mask. His fingers grazed the skin of Dream's temple, and Dream felt as if he had just been burned by a burning match. That was the last straw. The voice still rang madly in his ears, but Dream could feel the haze in the mind gradually fading, and a searing yet blissful warmth spreading through his chest. The screams of the voice and the bloodlust grew fainter, the fingers slowly unclenched and the dagger fell into the grass, landing noiselessly on the forest floor. At the same time, he grabbed George's t-shirt with both hands and pulled him forwards with such force that the air got knocked out of George's lungs.

The voice stopped. His real self won. Thanks to one feeling.

And then Dream was consumed by a terrible sense of guilt and sticky horror at what HE could have done with HIS own hands just half a minute ago. He could have just killed the most precious person in his life just because of some parasitic voice in his mind. He wanted to protect George from himself. Now he was most afraid that the retreat of the voice was only a temporary effect of the emotional outburst, and that soon he would be someone's puppet again and complete the dirty work.

He quickly reached into the pocket of his hoodie, pulled out the damn compass, and threw it at a nearby tree with such force that it shattered in small pieces. The sudden movement made George twitch, but then he saw the tears dripping from under Dream's mask. Dream let out a convulsive sob. With each second passing since his release from the voice control, he felt more and more guilty for what he was about to do.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he whispered, his teeth clenched.

"For what?" George raised his hands to his face again and carefully placed his fingertips on the edges of the mask. "Would you mind?..."

Dream didn't say anything, but it seemed that the silence was enough for George to understand his thoughts. He lifted the mask and pushed it back on Dream's forehead, meeting the emerald eyes that were now filled with tears directly for the first time.

"You're beautiful," George whispered. "I think it's worth it to fall in love with you for the second time..."

Dream held him close again before he could finish, and pressed his lips to his temple, trying to suppress more sobs. He could feel George's heartbeat again, but this time there was no predatory bloodlust in his soul. There was only boundless love that finally broke free. From now on, if anything happened to his George, Dream would kill whoever was involved in it with his bare hands.

His legs buckled with emotion and they sank on the grass together. Dream cupped George's face in his hands and their foreheads touched.

"I... I won't let you get hurt ever, I promise," he whispered, "I'm sorry making you worry so much."

George smiled at him and wiped a trail of tears from Dream's cheek with his thumb. He was really happy now.

"It's getting dark," George said quietly, looking up at the sky. "I guess we have to go home."

"I'll tear down that stupid partition first thing in the morning."

"Today!" George corrected him with feigned strictness.

"Okay, today."

"And we'll make pumpkin pie."

"Of course."

Dream got to his feet and gave George a hand to help him up. His heart fluttered with joy, and his mind was already full of plans for the endless number of evenings they would spend together in their house. This feeling inspired him, gave him a thirst for life, and made his soul literally shine with happiness. They will return home and start a new life. Starting from today.

"Oh, I almost forgot," George said suddenly, and leaned forward. At the same moment, Dream felt their lips touch. At that second, it was like fireworks exploding in his head. This seemed to be the most beautiful experience of his life, and he immediately returned the kiss, wanting to express as much of his feelings as possible in this rush. It was a short, awkward kiss, but they were both happier than ever.

It never occurred to any of them that a pair of white eyes were watching them from the branches of a sprawling oak tree nearby. A black silhouette in a raincoat grinned with its inhumanly fanged mouth, inserting an arrow into a crossbow engraved with the name "BadBoyHalo" and pulling the string.

"Two birds with one stone," he whispered, aiming perfectly so that one arrow would take off two heads at once. A voice in his mind congratulated him on the success of the task as the whoosh of the projectile cut through the air.


End file.
